


Red Earth & Pouring Rain

by Raine_Wynd



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Inspired by Music, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:47:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29421807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_Wynd/pseuds/Raine_Wynd
Summary: Clint comes home, but home isn't home anymore.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Scott Lang, Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ignores the _Avengers: Infinity War Prelude_ canon in which, after being freed from the Raft, Clint tells the other Avengers he’s retired for good this time and returns home. It assumes he went with Steve and Bucky to Wakanda. (Because that panel in the comic ignores all consequences, hello.)  
> As for the Barton children’s ages: I’m guessing here, but I’m going with Cooper being ten here, Lila eight, and Nathaniel two.  
> For this story, the Barton farm is in Poughkeepsie, New York, which is about an hour’s drive away from New York City with zero traffic.  
> Warning: references to sex involving dubious consent/rape; abuse of prisoners
> 
> A good chunk of this was written in 2018, so anything MCU-related past that point is not part of canon.

_March 2018_

Laura was washing the last of the dinner dishes when the doorbell rang. “Cooper, please answer that?” she called to her eldest son, who stopped chasing his sister around the sofa long enough to fill her request.

She heard Cooper open the door, then nothing. Panicking, Laura hastily cleaned her hands on a towel and rushed to the door, only to stop short. The man she had not seen in two years was hugging their children, tears in his eyes. He wore a tribal patterned blue wrap over a purple t-shirt. The wrap draped from his left shoulder diagonally across to his right hip. Blue jeans and black combat boots completed his attire.

At the sight of her, a smile formed on his lips. “Honey, I’m home,” he said.

She studied him, seeing new worry lines in his face. His skin had darkened, showing he had spent a considerable time in the sun. His tan lines revealed he had spent enough time with his archery brace on that it had left its mark. He looked stronger and tougher, as if he had spent all his time exercising. A rolling suitcase and a new-looking rectangular steel case sat at his feet.

The part of Laura that had learned to deal without her husband, to live with half of her heart and soul and forge new ground, was no longer as certain she loved him as when he had left. When she did not rush into his arms, Clint nodded slightly, as if he had expected that response. “Can I at least get a hug?” he asked quietly.

Startled into action, she gave him a hug and a kiss, aware the kids were watching. “Where have you been? Why couldn’t you call?”

“Wakanda, and until King T’Challa made his speech to the UN a week ago, we had to pretend it was a third-world country with limited internet access,” Clint explained as Cooper and Lila tried to get his attention.

“Wakanda? Isn’t that the country that’s all over the news now?” Laura asked. “Something about a rare metal and technology no one else has?”

Clint nodded as Lila tried to climb into his arms. “Hey, easy,” he laughed as he lifted the eight-year-old into his arms. “I’m not a tree.”

“Daddy!” Lila said excitedly. “Are you home for good?”

“For now,” Clint agreed. “Hey, Coop, you got a hug for your old man?”

Laura stepped back and let their children take center stage and demand his attention until she could see Clint was getting overwhelmed and sent them to get ready for bed. Once Cooper and Lila were in their rooms, Laura led Clint to Nathaniel’s room, where their youngest slept. Clint stood in the doorway, hesitating, before she nudged him into the room. “Go on, he’s a sound sleeper.”

Clint stood by Nathaniel’s bed, looking oddly nervous. He stroked his son’s cheek, and when Nathaniel slept on, took a deep shuddering breath. “Hey, you got big,” he murmured. “I missed you doing that.” Clint took another breath before turning to Laura.

“I didn’t hear you drive up.”

“I didn’t drive,” Clint told her, and the mischievous smile she loved appeared on his face. “I got a ride courtesy of the Wakandan Royal Air Force. They flew me here since I can’t fly on any commercial airline anymore.”

“Why not?” Laura asked, then remembered the news reports. “What did you do, Clint? They said you were a fugitive, that you’d broken some international law.”

Clint grimaced and stepped out of the room. “Yeah, I did,” he said bluntly. “That’s why I couldn’t call. I couldn’t risk someone tracking the call to you.” He looked at her, comparing the picture he had in his head with the way she looked now. “I really, really have missed you.”

Not waiting on a reply, Clint kissed her. It felt strange, like kissing a stranger for the first time. In her head, Laura knew this was her husband, someone she loved, someone she found attractive, but it had been so long since she had even seen him, so much silence, that she had turned off everything but the need to take care of their children. Clint stepped back. For a moment, Laura glimpsed the hurt he felt, but then his expression went blank.

Laura had always believed she alone got to see the real man behind the paramilitary commando. Looking at the way he held himself and the carefully neutral expression he wore, she sensed she was not seeing her Clint, but the man he was to other people who did not know him. “Sorry, it’s been a long time,” she tried.

Clint nodded. “I understand.” He straightened his shoulders. “I can sleep in the barn tonight.” He had built a room within the barn for those nights when his PTSD flared up and he wanted to let her sleep.

Laura hesitated. Reading her answer in her hesitation, Clint turned away, but she reached for him. “No, don’t,” she told him. “Cooper will ask why if you do.”

“It’s okay,” Clint tried.

“No, it’s not okay,” Laura bit off, suddenly angry. “Unless there’s more you aren’t telling me? Did you find someone else?”

“No,” Clint growled, insulted. “Did you?”

“No,” Laura shot back, irked he would even ask. She supposed she deserved it, given she had asked first. “Clint, I thought you were dead. I thought Natasha was dead. Of the people you brought here before, the only one I knew was still alive was Tony Stark, and I didn’t dare contact him, in case he was the reason.” She took a breath. “I got used to sleeping alone. To being without you. I don’t know how to bridge that distance, but if you sleep in the barn tonight, I’m not sure if we will.”

That got her a ghost of the smile she had missed. “Is it all right if I hug you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Laura said, and stepped into his arms. She had forgotten how strong he was, how solidly built, how much she loved him hugging her. For a long moment, they stood there, holding each other.

“I missed you,” Clint said, emotion filling his voice. Then he stepped back, as if realizing he might be pushing her. “Did you have other questions?”

“What exactly did you do, Clint? Or is it more things you can’t tell me?”

Clint looked away briefly. “Some of it I can’t,” he admitted. “The part I can tell you is that while I was arrested and imprisoned, I’m no longer an international fugitive.” At her look of horror, Clint elaborated, “I didn’t kill anyone, Laura. I just believed Steve, who turned out to be right. Doing so meant he, I, Wanda, the Falcon, and the Ant-Man broke a set of laws called the Sokovia Accords.”

Laura frowned. She paid attention to the news. “Isn’t that just for people with enhanced abilities?”

“Not according to the original version,” Clint explained, his expression bitter. “The Avengers, their children, their families, anyone who associated with them and fought on their side…. That’s why I couldn’t contact you. The original version put a target on you and the kids. Until I could be sure you weren’t in danger, I didn’t dare come home.”

Laura put a hand on her mouth, shocked. “Why? That’s not how the news reported it.”

“Because the Avengers didn’t report to any government agency,” Clint said. “We haven’t paid for any damage we caused, even if the damage was done to protect the greater good.” He took a breath before he added, “The Sokovia Accords were meant as a guideline for how we act, but it was heavily biased and handcuffed us. The Secretary of State handed it to us and didn’t give us a chance to read it. We were supposed to trust Tony had read it and had scanned it for loopholes, but Steve didn’t trust Secretary Ross. Looking back, I’m not sure he trusted Tony, either. I don’t trust Ross; he’s been angling for a superhuman to call his own for years now. He’d kill his own daughter if it meant he had control.”

“What’s different now?”

Clint smirked. “King T’Challa of Wakanda set his lawyers on it and got several other countries to take a good hard second look at it.” He looked at Laura. “T’Challa pointed out that if it stood without amendments, there would be a witch hunt, reasons for a genocide, and then nobody would be safe. He also pointed out that if it stood as-is, the UN would have to arrest everyone in Wakanda because of their exposure to vibranium. Under the original accords, anyone with exposure to alien materials could be subject to arrest.” Clint smiled crookedly. “I have dual citizenship now. Wakanda doesn’t have extradition treaties with anyone.”

“I thought you reported to SHIELD.”

“Not since Steve and Natasha exposed it as a front for Hydra,” Clint said. “What exists as SHIELD isn’t equipped to deal with us. A UN Special Council oversees Avengers operations.”

“And are you still an Avenger?” Laura worried. “I thought you were retired.”

Clint met her gaze. His eyes looked haunted. “I’m on reserve duty.”

“Which means they could still call you,” Laura interpreted. “You promised you’d stop.”

“The guy who promised you that didn’t know what was to come,” Clint snapped. “I’m on house arrest.”

Laura studied him. She had loved him for two decades; his anger did not scare her. Yet some part of her remained wary. “Which means?” she asked.

“I’m an Avenger, but unless the world is ending, and they need me, I’m not on active duty. I can go anywhere if it’s within a hundred-mile radius of our house. It’s the deal I took so I can make sure you stay safe.” He smiled reassuringly and changed the subject. “It’s late; we should get some sleep.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this is where the dubious consent shows up.

Over the next three weeks, Laura found her husband to be a ghost. He played with the kids, but never when she was around. Clint helped with farm chores, but early enough she was still asleep when he started. Laura had realized early on that she could never do more than raise a few goats for her soap and shampoo business, since she could not rely on Clint to be there all the time. His care of the animals meant she had time to make updates to her website and package more orders for shipment. He was with her when she fell asleep and there when she woke. He joined them for dinner, but never for breakfast, leaving her to ensure Cooper and Lila met the school bus on time.

For someone on the farm, Clint was doing an outstanding job of staying out of her way. She might have not noticed it if Cooper had not come running into the dining room one Friday afternoon. “Mom, is Daddy leaving again?”

“What makes you say that?” Laura asked, startled. She had been busy checking the orders on her website and reconciling her accounting and had heard no vehicles.

“Cause there’s a plane in the field and he’s talking to someone I don’t know,” Cooper said.

Laura hurried to the field behind the house, the one Clint had always used for landing planes. She arrived in time to see Clint hugging a young black woman dressed in a bright yellow tunic, leggings, and sneakers. Another woman, dressed in red and silver armor and looking like no female warrior Laura had ever seen, stood by the ramp to the plane, a spear in her hand.

“Thanks, Princess,” Clint said, stepping back. “Though there is ‘FedEx’?”

The young woman laughed. “I do not trust FedEx to deliver such precious equipment in one piece. I have seen the YouTube videos of damaged packages.”

Clint turned, and his smile widened to include Laura, then disappeared behind a bland mask. It hurt to see that mask, and for a moment, Laura was insanely jealous. Then he waved her over. “Laura, I’d like you to meet someone.”

Laura stepped forward, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Yes?”

“Laura, this is Her Royal Highness, Shuri, Crown Princess of Wakanda,” Clint introduced them. “Shuri, this is my wife, Laura, the one who makes the goats’ milk soap you like.”

Shuri looked young, as if she was not yet in her twenties. She grinned. “Clint was telling me you were busy doing accounting for your business; I hope I did not interrupt,” she said, extending her hand to shake.

Manners had Laura shaking hands. Laura felt like an underdressed peasant and shot Clint an annoyed look. “No, it’s my pleasure. You like my soap?”

Shuri smiled. “He was bragging it was the best in the world; I had to try.”

Astonished that a princess wanted her product, Laura managed not to sputter. “I was wondering why my sales were up and why I was shipping to the Wakandan embassy in D.C.”

Shuri smiled. “I don’t suppose you have any–”

“We need to get going,” her guard interrupted. “Your brother will not appreciate you being late.”

Shuri made a face, but she acknowledged her guard’s reprimand. “Call the others,” she told Clint. “They worry, and then they ask me questions. As if I am your keeper.”

Clint bowed to her. “Of course, Your Highness.” Snark laced his voice.

Shuri laughed. “Do not make me bring the big guns, Hawkeye.”

“I will call,” Clint promised solemnly. “I give you my word.” He crossed his arms across his chest and pressed both arms together twice.

Shuri returned the crossed-arms gesture before picking up the medium-sized box that rested on the ground and handing it to Clint. “You better.” She turned to Laura. “Pleasure to meet you.” With that, she turned and headed up the ramp and into the plane. Her guard followed, and soon the plane lifted off without a sound.

Clint looked wistful, as if he wished he could have gone with them.

“You knew a princess was arriving, and you didn’t tell me?” Laura demanded.

“It’s just Shuri,” Clint said.

“‘Just Shuri’?” Laura echoed disbelievingly. “She’s the next in line to the throne of the country you got citizenship in. That’s not important to you?”

Clint blinked. “I owe Shuri more than I can ever repay,” he declared, frost coloring his voice. “I never forget she’s a princess, but I’ve also learned she’s a teenager who will call me out on things she notices, screw protocol.”

“Oh.” That softened Laura’s indignation. “So she’s okay with you teasing her?”

Clint grinned. “More than okay.” His smile faded. “I thought you were busy reconciling the invoices and didn’t want interruptions.”

“Cooper told me we—you had visitors. What did Princess Shuri bring you?”

“A better arm brace,” Clint explained. “She redesigned the one I had so I would be less prone to breaking my wrist if I had to let go of my bow. Knowing her, she also added other improvements and a surprise gift or two. Given the weight of this box, I wouldn’t be surprised if she also put in some forearm braces to help strengthen my wrists.”

“Does that mean she will need you soon?” Laura asked anxiously.

Clint looked at her. “If she needed me, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now,” he said flatly, and walked towards the barn. “I would’ve left.”

Laura hurried after him, hurt. “Clint, I just got you back, I–” Her voice failed her as she stepped into the barn and into the space he had claimed as his. The open suitcase held a stack of clothing; a pile of dirty laundry sat to the right of it. Clint had tossed the covers to the end of the twin-sized bed while the pillow lay askew, as if Clint had just gotten out of bed and not bothered to make it. Clint’s coat, quiver, and bow hung from the pegboard that formed one wall of the spare bedroom. A dining room chair had migrated to the room and held an overflowing pile of clothing. A tablet Laura had never seen before sat on the nightstand to the left of the bed. The oak storage chest she had forgotten they had sat at the end of the bed, its lid open to reveal a stack of linens and assorted clothing. Everywhere she could see, Clint had sprawled out, occupying the narrow space, leaving only a sliver of the room where he could walk. Laura realized she had missed this in their bedroom, the way he took over every surface while leaving room to travel. Gut instinct told her he had been spending his nights here while she slept, alone and unaware.

Clint met her shocked gaze, his eyes cool and distant. “You wanted something?” He set the box Shuri had given him down on the nightstand.

Laura closed her mouth and swallowed down the hurt his distance caused. “You… you haven’t been sleeping with me since you came back?”

“You didn’t act like you wanted me there, so I stopped.” Clint shrugged. “I figured you didn’t want me touching you, so I decided it was better if I wasn’t tempted.”

Laura’s eyes widened at that statement. That was the last thing she expected. Clint had always been a passionate lover, eager to make up for lost time. It was why Nathaniel had been an unplanned surprise. “That’s not how you usually act!” she burst out.

“Yeah, well. Usually you’re happier to see me.” Clint’s voice was dry. “If that’s the way we’re going to be, I suggest you get back to your accounting and I’ll get back to staying out of your way. Don’t worry. I’ll let you know when I’m leaving.”

Stunned, Laura could only stare while he cut open the box and lifted out an arm brace. For a moment, the look on his face was pure happiness as he tried on the brace. A press of a button sealed it to his forearm. He set the box aside and looked at Laura. “What? You’ve never needed me. I’m just the idiot who fell in love with you and keeps breaking promises, so why should I expect a warm welcome home?”

Laura continued to stare at him, unable to come up with the words to rebut his assessment and paralyzed by the sense she had lost him somehow.

Clint huffed out an impatient breath and crossed the small room. “Laura, go. I can’t do your accounting for you and if you wait too long, Cooper will get on the computer and mess it up.”

The threat to her accounting and the mention of their son shook her out of her trance. Had she turned around, she would have seen the look of heartbreak on Clint’s face.

* * *

Clint watched her leave and cursed his words. He should have taken Scott up on his offer to share house arrest—at least then the family he was insulting would not be his own. Feeling inadequate, he gave into impulse and picked up his phone.

Texting Scott, he asked, _How do you not stick your foot in your mouth when you’re trying to talk to the woman you love_?

 _I don’t know,_ Scott texted back. _Mine married someone else who’s cooler than me, so I’m forever fucking it up._ _Even my daughter notices and comments._

Clint’s phone rang a second later. “Want me to rescue you? We could get drunk and have grand fine reasons for fucking up.”

Clint chuckled, appreciating the effort. “You’re in San Francisco, which means you’re way too far away for a drink.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Scott countered. “And hey, she hasn’t given up on you yet, right? You’re still married?”

“Yeah,” Clint said.

“Then you have a chance,” Scott assured him.

“Your faith in me is reassuring,” Clint replied, “but right now I feel like I’m batting zero.”

To his credit, Scott offered no further advice. “Oh, hey, while I got you on the line—did you get Steve’s message?”

“Message about what?”

“Steve is trying to make things right for you, me, Wanda, and Sam. Steve’s coming out to see me since I can’t leave the Bay area, but from what he said in his email, I think you might be interested.”

“Not going to clue me in?”

Scott laughed. “Not if it’s in that email. Look, I’ve gotta go; my ride to work is here. Keep in touch, man.” Scott disconnected the call.

Intrigued, Clint checked his email, which he had not been checking since his return, figuring they’d call or retrieve him for any actual emergency. Though he could check his email on his phone, Clint opted to use the tablet instead, since it would be less susceptible to spying thanks to Wakandan technology. The terms of the deal he had made with the US State Department meant he was to act as a civilian unless the apocalypse happened. Clint decided those terms meant the US government lost the right to scan his email and his Internet history, so he preferred to use the Wakandan account Shuri had set up for him.

He found the email Steve had sent earlier that day, asking him to meet him and Pepper at the Tower on Friday. Clint also saw the email Wanda had sent him, full of photos and video from her trip to Sokovia, which was rebuilding.

For a moment, Clint froze, remembering what happened on the Raft. The first restraints they had fitted Wanda with did not have drugs embedded in it, only electric shock. She had developed a tolerance to the pain of electric shock because of the experiment she had volunteered for, a fact not known to the Raft guards. She had broken free of those first restraints and had nearly freed Clint before being discovered. The guards’ punishment of her and Clint had been swift, brutal, and cruel. They had forced Wanda to prove her devotion to Clint while they watched, jeering and commenting.

Lost in the memory, Clint jumped at the sound of his phone ringing. Swearing, he answered, not bothering to read the caller ID.

“If I’ve called at an inconvenient time—” Pepper Potts began.

“No, no,” Clint said hastily. “What can I do for you?”

“Steve asked me to make sure you were coming to meet with us. Something about you having a habit of ignoring email if you’re not on duty?”

Clint flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry. I’ve been distracted with home stuff.”

“Understandable. When can I send a car up to pick you up? I understand you’re not supposed to be driving unless it’s to specific locations, like your children’s school, the grocery store, or the doctor.”

Clint grimaced at the reminder of his restrictions. “How about two days from now?”

“Sounds good,” Pepper said, pleased. “If you email me directions, I’ll text you when the driver leaves here so you have a photo of whom to expect and what kind of vehicle. My email is pepper.potts@starkindustries.com.”

“I’ll do that right after we hang up,” Clint assured her. “Any chance you can tell me more about these papers Steve wants me to sign?”

“It’s not anything bad,” Pepper assured him. “One of them is a release we negotiated so your travel is not as restricted.”

When Pepper elaborated no further, Clint understood the implied ‘I won’t tell you.’ “Any reason these papers can’t be couriered to me so I can read them and then sign them? I’d rather not leave home unless it’s necessary.”

“General Ross insisted we have witnesses of his choosing for your travel release. The appointment is set for 4 pm.”

Clint swore. “I’ll see you on Friday afternoon then.”

“Till then. Thanks for taking my call, Clint. Have a good rest of your day!”

Not allowing himself to hesitate, Clint emailed Pepper the directions to the farm, adding in a warning that the last quarter-mile to the front of his house was a gravel road.

Then, because he was a glutton for punishment, he answered Wanda’s email, commenting on the photos and video she had taken that showed her home country was bouncing back from the disaster it had experienced. He suspected she had used her powers to slip into the country undetected. He had asked her to wipe out the memory of what he had done to her. She had refused, claiming that if she had to remember how he tried to save her from something worse, he had to remember why he was her hero.

Drowning in remorse, Clint felt like an utter failure. Disgusted with himself, he shut down the email program and secured the tablet. Picking up his bow and arrow, he consoled himself with testing the new arm braces Shuri had delivered.


	3. Chapter 3

“Daddy, why do you have to go?” Lila asked as she clung to him two days later. “You just got back.”

“Daddy has an important meeting,” Clint told her. “And I’m just going to Manhattan and then coming home. No detours this time. I hope.”

Lila looked at him. “Okay.” She stepped back. “I’ll watch Nathaniel.”

“You do that.” Clint leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Now be a good girl for your mama, okay? Promise?”

“Promise,” Lila said with a serious nod. “Say hi to Aunt Natasha for me.”

Clint hugged her, then his eldest son, before turning to the woman who had tried to slip into the room unnoticed.

“Leaving again?” Laura asked.

“Just to sign papers in Manhattan. Should be back later tonight.” He looked at her, wishing once again that he knew how to cross the divide between them. “I asked Pepper if she could courier them over, but she said I had to appear in person.”

Laura frowned. “What papers? And why are you taking your bow with you?”

“I’m owed back pay for being a military operative,” Clint said. “Avengers stuff.” He hoped Laura would take the excuse. Given the tone of Steve’s email, Clint sensed the papers were more than that. “And since I’m headed to the Tower, I thought I’d use the archery range there and give the brace Shuri gave me a proper testing.”

Thankfully, Laura accepted it, and even consented to hugging him goodbye. Clint suspected it was because the kids were watching, but he took the embrace, anyway. In his head he called himself desperate for affection, but made sure he kept a poker face on until he got out to the luxury SUV waiting for him.

He was not surprised to see a uniformed chauffeur behind the wheel; relief rushed through him as he recognized Happy, Stark’s personal chauffeur. Clint told himself he should have expected Pepper to limit who knew how to get to his farm, but he took little for granted. He was, however, surprised to find Steve in the backseat. The SUV was configured as a limo, so it had a mini-bar, fridge, snacks, and a privacy screen dividing the driver from the passengers.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Clint said as he made his way into the vehicle.

Steve grinned and took the bow and quiver Clint handed him, allowing Clint the freedom to sit down easily. “Figured you could use some company. Natasha wanted to come; she had the look of someone who wanted to ask you a million questions.”

Clint winced. “You know this will just delay it.”

“Yes, but at least this way you can practice your answers,” Steve said mildly.

Clint laughed. He had not known he needed Steve’s companionship until he showed up. “So how are you settling in?” Rather than move into the Avengers Tower again, Steve had bought a two-bedroom house in Brooklyn. The house had been a foreclosure and squatters had decimated the interior, damaging most of the second floor, but Steve had seen such damage as a challenge rather than a detractor.

“Rough,” Steve admitted. “Didn’t realize I’d gotten used to hearing Wakandan birds screeching until I realized I wasn’t hearing them anymore.”

Clint chuckled. “Yeah, me too.” He reached for the thermos of coffee he found on the mini-bar, and offered it to Steve, who waved off the offer. “You get your art studio set up?”

Steve nodded. “Pepper’s trying to convince me I should do a show.”

“Not interested?” Clint asked as Happy maneuvered the SUV towards New York City.

“Not interested in seeing if people want to buy my art just because it’s something Captain America did,” Steve noted dryly. “And I wouldn’t drink that coffee. Smell it first.”

Clint frowned as he did so, smelling stale coffee and whiskey. He recapped the thermos and put it back. “Do it under a pen name,” Clint suggested. “Or if you put your name to it, do for a charity, so those people who’d buy anything associated with you wouldn’t be hurting anyone.”

“That’s a thought,” Steve mused. “Might be worth it then.” He studied Clint a moment. “Have your kids settled?”

“Coop asks me when I’m going back to work,” Clint said grimly. “Lila hugs me like I’m going to disappear. Nathaniel doesn’t know any different; he’s too young to know otherwise.”

“And Laura?”

Clint met Steve’s gaze. Too many days when they had been both too tired to sleep, too wired not to talk, had left its mark. Between them, they had no secrets left. “She doesn’t act like she wants me around.”

“Do you want to change that?” Steve asked.

Clint blew out a breath. “Yeah, but I don’t know how.”

“Sure you do,” Steve countered. “You just don’t think it’ll work this time.” His voice held wry, hard-won knowledge. It had taken Steve weeks to admit what everyone on the team already had assumed was true—that his love of Bucky was that of a lover—and that it had taken even longer for both men acknowledge it was true for both sides. “You wouldn’t love just anyone, Clint. That’s what makes it terrifying and worth it.”

“I’m damaged goods,” Clint scoffed. “How the hell can I tell her what happened?”

Steve hardened his voice. “You made the only choice you could, Clint. Wanda doesn’t blame you.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Clint asked, hating that the other man knew about the incident on the Raft, hating how he felt sick at the mere memory of what he had done. “Like why I’m signing paperwork again? I thought I was done.”

“With the Accords stuff,” Steve said. “Pepper has been working on extending the range you can travel, so you need to sign that new agreement. The rest of the paperwork is for you, separate from anything else. Pepper pointed out that you and Scott have families. You aren’t drawing a salary the way you were when SHIELD existed. Retiring—contrary to what you led me to believe—meant you lost income.”

Clint stared at him. “You didn’t. Steve, please tell me you didn’t convince Stark to give money to my wife and kids.”

“I didn’t convince Tony to give money to anyone,” Steve countered, insulted. “Howard had a fund set up for me. Pepper found it during a Stark Industries audit. It was supposed to be a small account, just enough to get me back on my feet if the government screwed me over.” Steve looked sheepish.

“Aw, hell, no, Steve, I’m not charity,” Clint protested.

“No,” Steve said firmly, “you’re not. You’re a friend, and it turns I need to gift some of that fund away or I have to pay taxes on it sitting there doing nothing. As much as I’d like to just write you a check, Pepper suggested I set it up as something where you’ll earn interest and can have a set amount coming to you every month, which means more paperwork.”

Clint heard the note of finality in the other man’s voice and sighed. “No chance I can argue out of it?”

“No.” Steve met his gaze. “I know you like to pay your own way, but so do I, and this is the least I can do to pay you for what you’ve sacrificed to help me and Bucky. And before you ask, I already gave some of it to charities, and no, you’re not the only friend benefitting from this fund.”

Clint suspected he knew which of the others had made the list: those who had backed Steve and wound up in the Raft for their troubles. “Does Tony still think we have something big-headed our way?”

“He does, but it’s hard to say what, when, or who,” Steve said. He met Clint’s worried gaze. “And if it’s anything like what we saw with the Chitauri, we won’t know what’s hit us until it does.”

“Still think we got lucky with the Chitauri. Next group won’t be so easy. SHIELD might have been full of HYDRA, but at least we had an organization to help deal with the fallout. Not so sure the UN Special Council won’t hang us out to dry. Especially now we have to ask permission first.” Clint scowled. “I can’t see where that won’t get us flak for injured or killed civilians while we wait for authorization.”

“You let me and Tony worry about that,” Steve told Clint. “Won’t be the first time I’ve had to tell Command their decision not to go in sucks.”

Clint chuckled at that and changed the subject to something less fraught. “How are you doing on the list of things to catch up on?”

Steve laughed. “Remember when we were in Wakanda and I said I would stop adding new things to the list because it was getting too long?”

“You can’t stop,” Clint surmised. “Because Bucky remembers stuff you never learned.”

Steve nodded. “I hate the feeling I’m never going to catch up. How do you manage?”

“I fake it a lot,” Clint admitted. During their conversations in Wakanda, he had revealed he had dropped out of school when he and his brother had run away to join the circus. Clint had missed out on the wealth of cultural experiences most preteens and teenagers of his generation had experienced. “Most people don’t notice unless you question them.”

“I noticed,” Steve said, and their discussion of what topics and phases were causing Steve confusion took them into Manhattan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are coming slowly - sorry, folks, but my work is moving offices and I'm in charge, so writing is taking a backseat to just watching stuff to decompress.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback adored!


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